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"Big deal," he muttered. "I'll go to the store tomorrow
and buy ya' some."
"But they ain't available in regular stores." She pressed close to his ear and said it once again, only
louder: "They ain't available in no regular stores, Frank!" With that, she slapped the Cosmopolitan into
her lap and thumbed through it, nearly ripping the pages out as she went. "And to think," she continued,
"I coulda' won it if you'd only taken the back way along 5th Street. But did you listen to me? Oh no! You
just had to take the highway. Mr. hot shot Frankie Kaplan always thinks he knows the short cut."
Louise continued hurling insults, but Frank wasn't listening anymore. Something in the distance had caught his
attention. Something very peculiar.
Weaving among the traffic up ahead was a pudgy Mexican boy dressed in a pink wrestling leotard with matching lipstick
and earrings. A crooked, gap-toothed grin contorted his face as he performed a clownish tightrope walk along the
centerline. There was something hideously enchanting about the boy. No matter how hard he tried, Frank couldn't
peel his eyes away, partially out of curiosity, and partially out of fear. He watched as the boy concentrated hard
on the placement of his feet, raised his arms above his head, and arched his back. The boy held this pose while
his eyes slowly scanned from one car to the next. And that's when he noticed Frank watching him. Their eyes locked.
The boy winked, blew him a kiss, and began a series of clumsy pirouettes toward the Chevy.
Frank turned his head just in time to catch the expression of terror on Louise's face.
"Oh my god," she shrieked, fishing a can of pepper spray from her purse. "Roll up the window! Lock
the door!"
But before Frank could react, the pudgy Mexican boy had wedged himself in the window.
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